


Out Cold (Except It's Actually Quite Warm)

by Margravin3



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Consensual Drugging, Consensual Non-Consent, Fade to Black, Failed Roleplay, Implied Sexual Content, Kink Negotiation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25625302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margravin3/pseuds/Margravin3
Summary: Ferdinand wants to try a sexy pretend kidnapping and interrogation. Hubert thinks he's being a little idealistic.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	Out Cold (Except It's Actually Quite Warm)

**Author's Note:**

> Someone in Discord mentioned that chloroform takes a good couple of minutes to work and doesn't actually knock someone out immediately and I just ran with it.
> 
> I've dabbled in writing stuff but this is the first thing I've actually felt comfortable with actually posting, (or actually finished, for that matter) so here it goes

_ “Ferdinand, I don’t think this is going to go the way you’re expecting it to.” _

_ “Nonsense! You will do just fine. I understand your hesitation to introduce the more nefarious skills of yours into our intimate relations but I thought we had already discussed this and reached an agreement.” _

_ “My reservations are not the issue, it’s the process itself. It will not be as instantaneous as you believe it to be.” Hubert sighs, rubbing his temples firmly with two fingers. “Where you got such a romanticized account, I will never know, nor do I care to learn.” _

_ “Well, we had already agreed that knocking myself out with a blow to the head is out of the question,” _

_ “Absolutely not,” Hubert interrupts. _

_ “So unless you have a better idea, I would very much like to try this with you.” _

_ “I know, Ferdinand. I will do as you ask, but this is a warning that you should perhaps lower your expectations of the effects of noxious chemicals. After this hurdle of knocking you unconscious, the process of faking an interrogation will be much smoother. Do you remember your safe word?” _

_ “Espresso,” he recites proudly. _

_ “Good. Until later, dear.”  _

* * *

Hubert had given him a warning, but it was, perhaps, not a good one, since Ferdinand felt incredibly unprepared for how unbearably boring this was turning out to be. 

It was rather exciting at first, he will give it that. Hubert had snuck into his office (without Ferdinand noticing, showing a lack of awareness he will almost certainly be lectured about later. Although Ferdinand will argue right back, that was entirely the point) and crept up behind him as he read over the latest trade proposal from Gloucester. Perhaps that will be his excuse for not noticing Hubert. It takes all of his mental facilities to parse the flowery language the Count uses in all his correspondence. He was just so busy in his attempt to turn poetry into concise trade policy that he was genuinely surprised when Hubert snatched him out of his chair and had him on his stomach on his office floor before Ferdinand even recognized what had happened. The weight on the back of his thighs, he assumes, is Hubert sitting on him to keep his legs, which he knows are very good at kicking, under control. One of his hands holds Ferdinand’s arms behind his back, tightly but not painfully, which he is thankful for, and the other holds a soft cloth that smells faintly sweet over his face. 

Ferdinand had thrashed about, as he told Hubert he would do, for the first minute or so, and had shouted some very colorful threats at his attacker, who merely tightened his grip and stayed silent. After that first minute, however, he found himself growing tired. Not in the drowsy way he usually experiences when he is feeling particularly faint, but the tiredness he feels after training, or after running one too many laps. And, most importantly, he simply got bored of fighting. 

“Do you see what I mean now?” Ferdinand jumps as Hubert whispers directly in his ear. “It will take about ten more minutes of waiting until you’re out. Whatever will we do until then?”

Ferdinand shivers in anticipation of what Hubert is planning for the interim. Surely he won’t start the main event now?

“If I let your arms go for a moment, will you stay put?”

Ferdinand nods into the cloth.

“Good boy.”

When the pressure against his arms lessens, he shifts them to put less stress on his shoulders, but ultimately stays still, because he is a good boy. He can hear the ruffling of papers on his desk, but the hand over his mouth stays put, so he can’t turn to see what Hubert could be looking for.

“A trade report from Gloucester? Let’s see…” 

He shouts into the cloth, hoping that something comprehensible comes out. “Is this truly the time to be going through my mail?”

“I don’t see us doing anything else to pass the time, do you?” Hubert ignores the rest of his complaining to read the letter. Thoughtfully, considering the amount of time it’s taking for him to get through it. 

“Gloucester wine is of a good quality, but the Count is obviously overselling this vintage. 1170 was a less than stellar year for Alliance grapes. A flood, so I’m told. But it is acceptable. Either we offer him less than he is asking for, or he adds more to the shipment. I know he is your friend, but we will not have this man bankrupt Enbarr if he learns he can get what he wants out of you.”

Ferdinand considers for a moment, and nods. “Could you make a note so that I may consider it tomorrow?”

“Certainly.” There is more shuffling, and the pressure on his thighs releases as Hubert leans up to access more items from his desk, but he returns to his seated position relatively quickly though. 

Ferdinand squeals as his shirt gets pushed up to his shoulders by a cold hand that decides to graze every inch of skin he reveals along the way. “Calm down,” Hubert says as though he’s bored, “Unless you want me to get ink on your shirt.”

His question is answered before he asks it as a piece of parchment is laid on the expanse of his back, and the sharp point of a quill pen presses words gently onto it. It’s an intimacy that’s approaching erotic, and Ferdinand squirms when he suddenly is reminded of the second part of their evening. But too soon, the parchment leaves, and Hubert goes back to reading his mail.    
  
“How are you feeling, by the way?”

Ferdinand has to stop and consider that, actually. He feels bored, for starters. Aroused too, but that’s secondary to the boredom right now. But Hubert likely isn’t asking about his mood.    
  
“I admit, I am beginning to feel a little bit dizzy right now.” Which is the truth. The more he focuses on it, the fuzzier his head becomes, and the harder it is for him to make intelligent conversation. 

“It has been about ten minutes. Just a little bit longer, my love, you’re doing so well.”

He groans into the cloth as Hubert rubs small, comforting circles into his back with his free hand. 

The touch leaves, regrettably, and Ferdinand mourns its loss as Hubert grabs another letter from his desk.

“Ah, this one is from Hrym. You were given management over it, correct? Perhaps we should look into finding a more permanent lord for the region, as you are already Prime Minister and Duke of Aegir. It is quite a lot to handle.”

“I have managed just fine thus far,” he manages to say in slurred, almost whispered words. 

“Of course you have, but that does not mean your successor will be able to do so with the same energy you give it. In the meantime, you may agree to their request for a lower tax rate. We will, of course, need to rework the budget for the next season accordingly, but Hrym has been through quite enough the past few decades, and it is a small price to pay to ensure the region is able to rebuild properly.” Ferdinand only nods. “I will note this for you as well, as I am unsure if you will remember this.”

The scratching of the pen returns, and he is certain Hubert is writing slowly this time on purpose. The rhythm lulls Ferdinand into dropping the tension from his body. His arms, which had remained obediently held across his back for the duration, had finally slipped, resting limply on the floor beside his body. 

“Are you dropping now?” Ferdinand wants to nod, but he cannot muster the energy to do even that. 

Hubert leans across his back, heavy and warm, and laughs softly in his ear. “Go to sleep, dear one. You can let go. I will be here when you wake up.”

Ferdinand’s eyes flutter closed, and he’s gone. 


End file.
